


DETHRONED

by PORTALBEAST



Series: THE DEAD IDENTITY SERIES [1]
Category: Batman - Fandom, DC Comics, Gotham - Fandom, Riddler - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PORTALBEAST/pseuds/PORTALBEAST
Summary: Justice goes against insanity; as The Riddler's revelation unleashes the first renaissance in Gotham since the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne.





	1. DEATH OF THE RIDDLER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: graphic depiction of violence, major character death.

Bruce Wayne was The Batman for forty years and was always The Riddler's favorite enigma. And perhaps Bruce Wayne didn't mind that. Perhaps Bruce enjoyed the stimulation of fighting a more clever criminal who was incapable of causing too much damage. Fighting the riddle-themed villain was good for his ego. Every vigilante needs a good villain. And vise-versa. Especially due to the way the criminal was growing more annoying than dangerous over the years.  
Either way, The Riddler's glory days were undoubtedly over. And that was what made killing The Riddler the easiest to abstain from. Yet killing The Riddler was the easiest thing to do on this night. 

"Sir, it's him again," Alfred spoke somewhat urgently as he turned to Bruce. It was eight pm. Tim, Bruce's sidekick, was desperate to go. 

"What is he doing today?" Tim interjected himself.

"You're not going." Bruce interrupted him. "You're sick and you need to stay home. Get some rest."

"As if you know anything about rest." 

"It seems he's receiving shipments of dynamite and cyanide. Can't be good. I recommend you stop by his new hideout before he can do anything with these new materials." Alfred spoke up.

"I would be good for that. You know I'm--" Tim began to cough in the middle of his sentence. "Good at plans like that." Bruce shook his head. 

"We've already decided on a plan. That's final." Bruce turned and began to walk towards the Batmobile. Tim continued to follow him.

"Something bad could happen tonight."

"It won't." 

"And if it does?" 

"I'm Batman. I think I can handle it." Bruce opened the door of the high tech car. The Batmobile was a sleek and completely black car. But the car wasn't like anything you'd ever seen before. The automobile had electrified skin deterrent and shield generator housing. It had a main weapons bay and a laser tracking assembly. But it was nothing new or exciting to Bruce. After sitting down in the Kevlar driver's seat, he looked to Alfred. 

"Setting the coordinates now. Fair warning, the new hideout is near the junkyard. It might smell." Bruce sighed. 

"He gets more and more pathetic every time."

"Tell me about it." Alfred smiled. He always enjoyed these small moments of back and forth between him and Bruce. Ever since Bruce's parents had died, moments like these made him feel even closer to Bruce. He would've said more if he knew this would be the last time he'd speak to Bruce like this. After this day; it would never be the same again. Unfortunately, Alfred was not aware.  
Once the coordinates were locked in, Bruce was ready. He firmly placed his hands on the steering wheel. He looked to Alfred for the last time. 

"Thanks, Alfred." Before he could close the door of the Batmobile, Tim put a hand on his shoulder.

"Be safe." Bruce nodded.

"Get some rest." Tim removed his hand and Bruce closed the door. 

"No problem sir." the door of the sleek black vehicle closed. Bruce revved the engine. He could feel adrenaline start to kick in. The car raced forwards and towards the exit of the secret cave. The man smiled. This was his favorite part. Now finally free from his cave, he was in what he could consider being his true home: the streets of Gotham City. 

Bruce was protected from the temperature inside his car. The air outside felt hot and heavy. It was the dead of summer. That was one of the most disgustingly humid Augusts the damned location had seen in years. The sun was setting while dusk was growing. It was a Sunday evening. Which could slightly explain the lack of people on the sidewalks. Tall and strong buildings surrounded him. Dark and agonizingly infamous alleyways stuck out to him. As he observed, Bruce gripped the leather of the steering wheel harder. He stepped on the gas. He could still taste the fresh whiskey he had on his tongue just ten minutes before. It wasn't long before he reached The Riddler's new hideout. 

But before he could go in, his cell phone began to ring. He turned on his voice modifier and spoke.

"Yes?"

"Batman, we need you. Something mysterious has happened to The Joker." Jim Gordon, the commissioner at the GCPD, begged.  
"I'm somewhat busy. I'll be at the GCPD as soon as possible." Bruce pulled up to the hideout. The Riddler's new hideout was an abandoned building nearby the junkyard, just like Alfred said. The building wasn't incredibly big or tall, but it was clearly just big enough for Riddler to be an annoyance. He got out of his vehicle. He immediately began to stomp his way up to the entrance of the hideout. He was getting frustrated already. He wanted to make sure this wouldn't take long.  
Right after pushing the door open, Bruce spoke out. 

"I have to make this quick, Riddler. Time's up. I know you've been getting shipments of cyanide and dynamite. Let's take you back to Arkham before you can really make any ruckus." question marks were scribbled everywhere in green spray paint. The hideout was cold, and more spacious on the inside than it appeared to be on the outside. Bruce halted as he saw The Riddler. Riddler was sitting in a chair, his back towards him. Riddler laughed.  
The Riddler's hair was falling out. And it was more dirty than usual. He wore a dark green suit with a matching bowler hat. The suit may have fit him at some point, but it was now far too big for his brittle and weak bones. His skin was pale and his body was skinny. Dark rings hung under his eyes and were clearly visible under his thick glasses. He bruises were all over his body. He looked like he was on drugs. He wasn't taking care of himself. All were the symptoms of his leukemia which he was very recently diagnosed with. He had a remote control his hand. But Bruce didn't take any note of this. He didn't care. 

"How tacky can you be?" Bruce complained. Riddler turned towards him.

"Oh, Batsy. What have you got yourself into this time?" Bruce frowned. He began to walk towards Riddler again.

"Let's go, Riddler. I said I have to make this quick. I meant it."

"Too bad." Riddler pressed a button. Suddenly, several robots appeared. They were his 'Riddle-bots'. Bruce had fought them before. He smirked. 

"Still can't fight your own battles, Riddler?" 

"Guess that's what cancer does to you. I'll send you a postcard from hell."

"No need. Heaven doesn't accept spam mail." Riddler rolled his eyes. He pushed away from Bruce in his chair. As Riddler was far enough away, the Riddle-bots began to swarm around Bruce. He didn't sweat it. This was what Bruce was born to do. 

Before a single robot could touch him, he threw a punch. One robot down already. He turned. Another robot was preparing to jump him. Bruce dropkicked the bot only once before it hit the ground. He turned dramatically towards the next, kicking it in the face with his heel and then punching it in the cheek area. He flipped and turned and punched and kicked. Fighting was an art form to Bruce. It was an art he mastered long ago. He felt there was nothing new to come to this fight.  
Then, something new occurred. Bruce began to feel a shock on the side of his neck. He yelled out in pain. A bot had caught him off guard. The bot had shot a sort of bullet that went through his suit into his neck. He pulled out the bullet. It interested him and frightened him. The new weapon had somehow blown a small bullet sized hole through Bruce's carbon fiber tri-weave armor. He quickly knocked the bot out, but then it happened again. Maybe he had underestimated Riddler's tech. He doubted it before striking down another. At that point, a Riddle-bot grabbed Bruce's shoulders and held him tightly. Several of the androids shocked Bruce in various places. He couldn't understand. He couldn't move. His body was becoming weaker and weaker. The suit was growing with more and more holes. Now vulnerable, Bruce was losing his strength. He began to feel dizzy. He was only human underneath the suit. He fell to his knees. 

The bots grabbed onto Bruce's arms and dragged him across the floor. Bruce tried to resist, but his efforts were slight and weak. The bots dragged him to what The Riddler's plans actually focused on: an electric chair. The Riddle-bots strapped him down as The Riddler stood.

"Like the new upgrade? You see, I know why you're here. You're here because of those shipments. You may think I'm building a bomb. When really, I only ordered those shipments because I hypothesized that you would figure it out. Now, when I actually need those shipments in the future, I know how to prevent you from finding out. Isn't that beautiful?" as Bruce was now finally completely trapped, he began to speak.

"You need help, Eddie. You could die a good man. I mean that truthfully." Riddler gritted his teeth. Riddler snatched Bruce's mask off his head. 

"Don't you dare call me that!" Riddler yelled. At that moment, he sighed in resentment and continued his monologue. "Maybe you're right. The leukemia is only getting worse. I'm not doing anything to treat it. Maybe I should try therapy...medication...essential oils." he chuckled. "But I want you to try it first." he pressed a button on his remote. Instantly, a shock of high voltage attacked Bruce's body. His body shook violently. He pressed the button again and the voltage stopped. Every frame of Bruce's body was aching. 

"You know what? You are right. I do need therapy. But perhaps you need it more." Bruce screamed out in agony and the button was pressed again. Bruce was losing consciousness. He wouldn't be able to take much for any longer. The off button was pressed once more. Riddler began to turn up the voltage. 

"I enjoy our time together, Bruce. Maybe too much. I don't have anything else interesting to do but test you. And even this isn't that interesting. Or at least...that's what I wish was true. Your pain is just too enjoyable." he pushed the button one more time. Bruce was screaming out in pure pain from the torment. He couldn't take it anymore. Bruce kept thrashing after the off button was pressed. Riddler grabbed his throat and pushed him back in his chair.

"It seems I've got your back against the wall this time. I bet you're shocked." Riddler grinned and shook his head. "Even while I'm terminally ill I'm better than you." 

"You're...you're..." Riddler took his hand off Bruce's neck as he began to speak. 

"I'm what?" Riddler questioned teasingly as he pressed one more time. Bruce screeched out the loudest at this moment. Bruce had been electrocuted with one thousand five hundred milliamps. The electricity burned his bodily tissues and interfered with his heartbeat. His muscles tensed and clenched, preventing his body from letting go of the current. Riddler didn't turn it off. He began laughing. He began to scream in Bruce's face. "I'M WHAT?! I'M WHAT?!" he turned the shock off.  
At that very moment; the heart of Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham City, stopped beating. He was dead. In front of The Riddler was the corpse of the city's most popular individual. Riddler was silent. He felt his pulse to make sure. There was nothing. 

"The Bat is dead," he whispered to himself. He began to roar in laughter. Tears formed in his eyes, he held his stomach. He kneeled down slowly, then fell to the ground. He could feel his bones nearly begin to rattle from the impact. His body was so weak, he'd have bruises all over from the sudden fall.  
For several moments Riddler laid there in hysteria. But as he stopped laughing, it dawned on him. The Batman was finally dead. There was no turning back.  
Edward Nygma sat up and stared at Bruce Wayne's dead body.  
"The Bat is dead..." he mumbled.

And so was The Riddler.


	2. THE LIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: blood, voices, glass cuts, loss of hope.

As the Riddler was now dead, the first thing Eddie did was cover his tracks. He had no time to waste. 

First, he disabled the tracking on the Batmobile. Then, he put Bruce's body in the freezer; he was lucky to have a fridge in his lair. He put a bag of frozen peas under Bruce's head as a pillow, took one last look, and shut it. Only an hour passed before Eddie left the lair. It was the first time he would go to his apartment since he had been diagnosed with leukemia. 

There were a lot of things he hadn't done since he was diagnosed with leukemia three months ago. He used to take care of himself attentively. But ever since three months ago, when he held a doctor hostage and was diagnosed, it had gone out the window.  
Forgetting to brush his teeth was the most recent development in this. His teeth were laced with bacteria and plaque. But when he was first diagnosed, he stopped washing his hair. Then, started to only shower once a week. Most of the time, Eddie smelled of gas and sweat. His skin felt rough and dry. He bruised easily and had dropped twenty pounds. Also due to the fatigue, he hadn't been doing nearly as much public crimes. But he was doing some crimes.  
Most of the time he was tinkering with his Riddle-bots. Sometimes he'd be making plans, almost going through with them, then canceling them at the last minute. Lately, he had been helping Scarecrow with a plan to send a package of fear toxin to every door in Gotham. And he hadn't thought to cancel it...yet.  
What he was thinking about was what was next for him. Eddie always used fighting Batman as a retreat. An escape from the sickness—from the reality that he was no longer a stunning villain. Even if he was never going through with his plans. Just the idea gave him something to focus on. Now his escape was lost. The door to his happy place was locked shut. 

The door to his apartment opened. Eddie wasn't surprised. Everything was the same. Except now, there was some dust. Luckily for him, he cleaned his apartment before he left it. He immediately walked into the living room and fell on the couch. His whole body ached. He felt the bruises.  
The bruises were what always scared him the most about leukemia. He felt the need to check the damage. He slowly stood. The wooden floorboards creaked underneath his feet. He slowly made his way to the bathroom; pulling off his green blazer whilst walking. He threw off his undershirt and tie. Once there, he stared at himself in the mirror. His chest was bare. He frowned. He had bruises all over his chest and arms. He felt ugly. Broken. Used, and now useless. The voices were louder than ever. There was nothing there, but he felt something screaming in his ear. Suddenly, it dawned on him.  
There was nothing for him to believe in anymore. 

He formed a fist and threw his right knuckle into the mirror, shattering the glass. He screamed out in pain and fell backward. He threw his head back. Blood trickled over his hands. It was like a waterfall of blood was slowly washing over them. His whole body was shaking, he yelled out again as he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears began to form in his eyes. And suddenly, all Eddie felt tears and blood all over him. Eventually, he laid there on the bathroom floor. Nothing to cover him but his green suit, blood, and tears. He leaned his head up and looked down at himself. That was when it dawned on him. He was still wearing most of the suit.  
Eddie gradually got off the ground; still shaking. He unbuckled his belt and took off the pants of the suit. He went to walk out of the bathroom but screamed in pain as he felt himself step into the glass. He dropped to the ground once more, halfway in the bathroom and halfway on the wooden floorboards of the hallway. He crawled further into the hallway and pulled his legs away from the bathroom floor. 

Stuck within that moment, staring at the glass on the bathroom floor, Eddie knew something was coming. A renaissance in his life. A change so great that it could help him take care of himself again. He had every reason to be doubtful, but something in him felt...new.


	3. TRACKER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: suicidal thoughts

Six hours after Bruce’s death, Tim was still awake. It was now 2 am. Alfred recommended that Tim go to bed. And Alfred also urged Tim to not go out to search for Bruce. Alfred knew that if something really did capture or hurt Bruce, Tim wouldn’t stand a chance. Alfred still believed that Bruce was coming home. He trusted the idea that Bruce was out there; and that putting Tim out there would simply make things more complicated. But Tim disagreed. He ignored all of Alfred’s advice and took the Batpod into the city. 

The black sky hung over the city, like a dome of darkness haunting the people. The city was overwhelmed with crime and filth. Still, tall and strong buildings stood on the ground. Yellow lights from the buildings attempted to illuminate the air. To distract from it all, rainwater was pouring down harshly from the clouds. The place smelled of mildew and gas. The sounds were of cars he was speeding past. He maintained the speed limit just barely. Tim believed in always following the law. But it was easy to get carried away with the Batpod. 

The Batpod was a vehicle like a motorcycle, but more advanced. The Batpod wheels could roll against their axes. This made the vehicle more maneuverable than a normal motorcycle. And the chassis on the vehicle could elongate, which helped Tim pass low hanging obstacles. The bike lacked protection when compared to Bruce’s other forms of transportation. To compensate, the bike was equipped with machine guns and grappling hooks. 

Tim’s favorite thing about the vehicle was the way it was controlled. While most transportation is manipulated using the human hands, this one was controlled by the shoulders. This left Tim’s hands free. And Tim needed at least one hand free. 

He sped through the city while holding a remote control in his left hand. The remote he was holding was supposed to be tracking the Batsuit. It was supposed to be giving Tim the coordinates of the armor. He was pressing the tracking button over and over. It repeatedly told him that the signal was lost. The signal was never supposed to be lost. Something was very, very wrong. And it was scaring Tim. Tim rebooted the remote. Little did he know, Eddie turned off the tracking Tim was desperately searching for. Months of researching and now having individual access to the tech gave Eddie the power to counteract Tim’s method. But what Eddie failed to realize was that he was unable to directly disable the tracking. He had only turned it off. 

Tim groaned frustratedly and started to gain speed. He was growing more and more nervous. He swiftly pulled over towards the side walk. He put one foot on the ground and stood. He gazed down at the remote. He pressed the restart button. He waited a few moments. And suddenly, a signal was found. The tracking was turned back on. And finally, Tim was given the exact location of the Batsuit. And it wasn’t far from where Tim was. Tim’s hope increased as he began to speed once more. 

The Batsuit currently resided in Eddie’s closet. In his apartment, at this moment, Eddie was almost done bandaging his hand. 

Just three hours ago, Eddie found himself on the floor. He was covered in blood, shards of glass, and tears. He passed out after crying for so long. It had taken him a while to get up. But now he was sitting in a lounge chair, in the living room of his apartment, and ripping out the last piece of glass remaining in his hand. He winced with pain as the small piece of glass became free of his skin. He sighed with relief. But he knew he wasn’t finished yet. 

He grabbed a disinfecting wipe and rubbed it all over his hand. He let his head fall back in agony as he yelled. Eddie always had a low pain tolerance. He took the wipe away from his hand. He began to pant. He groaned. He knew he had to keep going. 

He put a patch of cotton on his hand to soak up the blood. Then he tightly wrapped the gauze around it. He exhaled in relief once he was finally finished. He kept panting. He closed his eyes. He allowed his hands gently fall onto his knees. He rested his head on the chair. He was overwhelmed with the amount of change he had sprung upon himself. Killing Bruce Wayne was an impulsive decision. It wasn’t planned at all. Eddie wasn’t used to being impulsive. Usually he’d plan all his attacks for months. Everything had to be completely perfect in his eyes. But his illness was getting worse. The number of months he had was decreasing. He knew he didn’t have the time to act the way he normally would. Yet at the moment, Eddie wasn’t ready to face those consequences. He was too tired. He needed to sleep. 

He stood from the chair and began to turn. He had his eyes set on his bed. But then, there was a loud knock on the door. His eyes widened. He was not expecting company. He tried to stay still. He believed that if he just pretended that he wasn’t home, whoever was there would just leave. The knocking paused…but then it continued again. Now it was louder. Suddenly, a voice spoke.

“HELLO? I JUST NEED TO TALK TO YOU!” it was the voice of Tim Drake. Eddie knew that voice. Panic began to settle in. Eddie remained frozen. The pounding on the door began once more. The pounding began to shake Eddie’s apartment. Eddie looked around to see that a spoon was about to fall from the kitchen counter. Eddie rushed to grab it, and he caught the spoon just in time. However, in the process of walking towards the spoon, the floorboards creaked and the sound of footsteps was audible. The knocking halted.

“PLEASE, I’M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU. I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE. I JUST NEED TO TALK.” Eddie knew there wasn’t any point in hiding anymore. The footsteps were a dead giveaway.   
“I—AM—UH—BUSY!” Tim’s eyes widened. He had been banging on the door expecting it to be some evil villain with some cheesy response. But he knew that voice. That was Edward Nygma. And he wasn’t asking a riddle…. something was very wrong. Adrenalin coursed through his veins as Tim stepped back and broke down Eddie’s front door. 

Eddie flinched and gasped as his front door came down and Tim came through it. 

“Where is Bruce, Riddler?” Tim came towards him aggressively. Eddie’s panic quickly turned to pure fear.

“I-I don’t—please d-don’t make me answer that question.”

“I followed the tracking. I know he’s here! What did you do to him?” 

“I-I-I’m so sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” Eddie extended his hands out towards him cautiously. Tim’s eyebrows raised.

“Riddler, what did you do?”

“Please don’t call me that—”

“RIDDLER, WHAT DID YOU DO—” Tim was getting closer and closer towards Eddie. Eddie was getting more and more overwhelmed. 

“PLEASE DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Eddie snapped. Tim halted in his tracks. Eddie looked down at the ground and sighed.

“Listen I…I-I don’t want to be bad anymore.”

“Where is Bruce—”

“I murdered him.” 

“That’s a lie—” 

“His body is in the freezer at my lair.” 

“You’re lying to me. Why would his Batsuit be here if—”

“I took the Batsuit home with me. It’s in the closet in my bedroom. You can check it yourself if you want to.” Tim was speechless. He looked to his remote. Tim turned the wrong direction, thinking the bedroom was in the same direction of the bathroom. Eddie caught this quickly and redirected him.

“It’s that way.” Eddie pointed. 

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“I haven’t asked you a single riddle.” Eddie muttered with a small laugh. “Because I don’t want to.” Tim couldn’t believe what was happening. He went in the direction Eddie told him to go, ready for a attack at any moment. But there was still no attack in sight when he reached the bedroom. When he walked in, he opened the closet. And there it was. The Batsuit dismembered and laying on the ground. Tim was furious, remorseful, and sad all at the same time. He quickly stomped back towards Eddie. 

“How could you? How did you do it? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!” 

“I electrocuted him because I felt numb.” Eddie was still refusing to make eye contact. He sat down in his chair again. He stared at the ground as he spoke. “I’m losing my mind…I went too far.” he finally made eye contact with Tim. “When he died I realized that The Riddler didn’t have a purpose anymore. I don’t know what I’m gonna do but…I’m sorry.” Confusion was now triumphing every other emotion Tim had. 

“So…so that’s it. Your big revelation of deciding to quit being The Riddler. The cost was Bruce’s life.” 

“Yes. I know you need to kill me. Go ahead.” Tim wasn’t sure what to do first. He wanted to sob and beat Eddie till he died at the same time. But he knew Eddie’s confession wasn’t just something to ignore. He had never seen a villain do this before. He was always more interested in why the criminal committed the crime. He had to understand what was going on in Eddie’s brain. 

‘Why did it have to cost Bruce’s life?”

“The Batman was my enabler. If I had an opponent, there was a game to be won. Now I…I-I don’t know what to do. Death might be the easiest option.” 

“Frankly, it’s probably what you deserve.”

“I…I know. I just…I’m not the person I want to be anymore. My days are limited. I…I physically can’t hold up to the standards I once knew to be the bare minimum. And I don’t even know if I like those standards anymore…the standards I’ve been living by for over a decade. I don’t know how to fix it. Hell, I’ll die soon anyways. I don’t even know if there’s a point in trying.” Tim’s pity towards Eddie began to grow. If Eddie had truly learned from his mistakes, was there a use in killing him? Could this revelation be used for good? Tim was too tired to know. All he knew was that he wouldn’t kill Eddie right away. 

“Well I…I can’t say you won’t go unpunished. But…if you can prove that you’re telling the truth, there must be something I can do for you. Have you considered putting this revelation to good use?”

“I…I w-wish I could but…there’s not a lot for me to do.” 

“We could see what Alfred thinks. After breakfast and interrogation. You need to be in somebody’s custody, it might as well be ours.” Eddie’s eyes widened again.

“Wait—what—”

“Come on Nygma, let’s go. We can’t take you to the police yet. They’ll most likely ignore your story and throw you into the asylum. And that’s the last thing you need.” Eddie hadn’t given much thought to turning himself in. He wasn’t sure how to feel. 

“I—”

“If you want to prove that you can be good, come with me. Either that or I turn you in to the police right now.” Eddie shut his mouth. He nodded and stood. 

It would be the last time he stepped foot in it for just three days. But when Eddie walked out of the apartment, he hoped he would never come back.


	4. MISSING MISSION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings.

Eddie was very busy being taken to Wayne Manor. So busy, he completely forgot about his responsibilities. His biggest responsibility was Scarecrow. The thought of Scarecrow couldn’t have been further from Eddie’s mind. Yet Scarecrow’s fist was slamming against the front door of Eddie’s now abandoned hideout. 

“RIDDLER! I'M TIRED OF WAITING!” Scarecrow demanded with a yell. Eddie and Scarecrow had a complicated relationship. But they had been planning a mission together for months. A mission that would kill hundreds and send the city into a panic. Tonight was supposed to be a night of planning. Eddie killing Bruce was a spontaneous act and was not something Scarecrow knew about. Scarecrow growled to himself as he was still left alone. He had been standing there for ten minutes now, ignoring the puzzle that kept the front door locked. Scarecrow didn’t like puzzles. 

Finally, he looked at the puzzle. He then realized how easy it was. As he solved the puzzle quickly, the front door opened. It was another sign of the Riddler losing his touch. Scarecrow marched in and slammed the door behind him. He began to yell.

“RIDDLER, WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN WASTING MY TIME—” Scarecrow paused. He immediately saw three things. An electric chair, Eddie’s signature green hat on the ground, and a destroyed car battery. Scarecrow had been to this hideout many times. But he had never seen these things simply laying around at his hideout before. His curiosity was peaked. 

“Riddler, are you here?” he called out. He was surprised to hear no response. His absence was now apparent in a way Scarecrow couldn’t ignore. He began to walk around some more. Eddie’s computers (and computer monitors) were still on. The air conditioning was still on. He looked to Eddie’s desk. There were notes of scribbled green pen everywhere. And when he spotted the pen on the desk, it was still open. Scarecrow knew better than to assume Eddie had forgotten to close his pen. He muttered to himself as he began to look through the notes.

“Has the Batman gotten the best of our beloved Riddler?” the notes were nonsensical. His handwriting was scribbled, and the words themselves appeared as incoherent psychobabble. Scarecrow came to the correct conclusion; Eddie was hearing voices when he wrote these notes. He began to search all over the hideout. 

After an hour of investigating, Scarecrow came up with two conclusions. A correct conclusion, and an incorrect conclusion.

“My god…the Batman is dead…” he muttered to himself. “And the Riddler…that bastard. He betrayed me. The months of work were for nothing…he betrayed me….” 

Scarecrow stormed out of the hideout. He knew exactly where he was going and exactly what he was going to do. He was going to kill Edward Nygma one way or another.


End file.
